


'Til the Gravity's Too Much.

by crosspin



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Canon, Episode: s03e16 The Southern Raiders, Getting Together, Inspired by Fanart, Kissing, M/M, fade-to-black age-appropriate sexual experiences, finding the courage to love even though the world feels hopeless, teenage boys talking about their feelings, the iconic tent scene but make it zukka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26921209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crosspin/pseuds/crosspin
Summary: "The thing is, we live dangerous lives," Sokka says. "You’re alive right now, and thank every goddamn spirit in existence for that. But we don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. We just don’t. It could be you. Or it could be me. And then all of this would just be over. And Zuko, I don’t think I could live with myself, here or in the afterlife, if that happened and you didn’t know how I feel about you.”Sokka invites Zuko to his tent to talk.Inspired by this fanart by ponury-grajek on tumblr.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 152
Kudos: 974





	'Til the Gravity's Too Much.

**Author's Note:**

> [I saw this fanart.](https://ponury-grajek.tumblr.com/post/630430789494030336/i-was-uumm-redrawing-that-screenshot-of-sokka-in) I screamed about it for two weeks. Then I wrote about it. 
> 
> Content warning: This is inspired by the canon Sukka tent scene, where Sokka canonically gets "lei'd." Thus, there is a VERY vague depiction of a sexual experience between the boys. No details are given. 
> 
> Title is from Treacherous by Taylor Swift.

It’s too much.   
  
It is, isn’t it? Sokka has the thought more than once, sneaking back and forth from their camp to the tiny town on the island, returning from each trip with arms even fuller than the last. Because when Sokka is anxious he _shops_ , and today he’s shopped until he’s spent every last penny in the small pouch at his hip.   
  
Zuko is warm, so Sokka buys a dozen candles so Zuko will feel comfortable and cozy and in his element. And Zuko is pretty, so Sokka can’t help but run back for the ostentatious bunch of roses he’d spotted before, because it’s the only thing he’s seen all day that comes close to standing out in a crowd the way Zuko does. And Zuko is _Zuko_ , so Sokka can’t help taking a third trip and buying a soft, thick blanket because ( _because because because_ ) maybe he wants to do things with Zuko that involve laying him slowly onto the ground, and Sokka doesn’t want him to hit his precious head on the rocks on the way down.   
  
The truth is, Sokka doesn’t know if it’s too much, or too little, or perfect, or terrible. He doesn’t know the first thing about navigating a romantic relationship. By the time he was at the age where most teens learn this sort of thing, any role model he might have had was long gone. He didn’t have Mom, or Dad, or the older boys of the tribe to teach him about courtship or feelings. He’s kind of going with his gut here.   
  
Sokka doesn’t know how you ask someone to be your... _boyfriend-partner-lover-alloftheabove_. But he’s asking all the same. And this is a question he really, really needs a yes to.   
  
The sky’s grown dark by the time he returns to the cave he’s picked out for their night together, and the moon is starting to peek up over the cliffs in the distance, as Sokka had known it would but still hoped it wouldn’t.   
  
Because that’s the thing about the world, isn’t it? It keeps turning, even when you beg it to stop.   
  
Sokka’s thinking about her now, in exactly the way she wouldn’t want him to. In Sokka’s defense, it’s not fair that most people’s lost loves go into the ground but his is painted up in the sky, faithfully making good on her promise to always be with him. And she _is_ , even when he can’t see her like he can now. Yue was beautiful and strong and kind but the one thing Sokka can never get out of his head is how _young_ she was. She was _sixteen_. A girl like Yue should have been spending her time stealing her parents’ alcohol and getting her heart broken and making mistakes that didn’t hurt anyone but herself. Instead, fate had decided that Yue’s body had never been hers to begin with. She gave herself up, again and again, for her family and her people and the _world_ .   
  
When Yue took her place among the stars, everyone called her a warrior. But no one ever stopped to ask why a sixteen-year-old was forced to fight in a war to begin with.   
  
So Sokka thinks about her now, just like he always does. Yue was special in a lot of ways, but not in that one. The infinite appetite of war means that what befell Yue yesterday could happen to Sokka today or to Zuko tomorrow. To the violence surrounding them, Sokka isn’t a swordsman or a strategist and Zuko isn’t a blessing or a braveheart; they’re just warm bodies, constantly dodging a hungry beast that craves flesh indiscriminately and endlessly. Sokka had loved Yue, at least in the way he knew how to back then, and loving her had taught him a painful lesson: branding someone with your love doesn’t save them from the monster. It just makes losing them that much worse.   
  
And choosing to love someone _despite_ knowing that pain firsthand? Well, that’s just suicidal.   
  
And yet…  
  
It’s Zuko.   
  
It’s Zuko and the glint of his golden eyes across the campfire every time Sokka tells a joke made just for him. It’s Zuko and his unwavering faith in Sokka’s ability to save him and all their friends from prison even if it means they’ll die trying. It’s Zuko and the instinctual leap of his body in front of Sokka’s to take every oncoming flame for himself. It’s Zuko and the way he’d held tight to Sokka on that gondola, like he would die if he didn’t, even minutes after any danger had passed. It’s Zuko and the soft breath that accompanied his whispered “I like you, too” that first night they’d been back. It’s Zuko and the way his eyes had fallen shut that first time they kissed in the woods by the Western Air Temple, the moment Sokka knew Zuko was taking his fragile heart and putting it right in Sokka’s clumsy hands. It’s Zuko, it’s Zuko, it’s _Zuko_.   
  
So yeah, it’s crazy, and yeah, Sokka should have learned his lesson by now, but it’s _Zuko_. There’s something between them that’s more special and big and important than anything else Sokka has ever known. Sokka is _scared_ of just how _much_ he feels, and yet he’s even more scared of keeping it to himself. What if something else happens to one of them, and this ends before he can ever tell Zuko the true depth of his feelings? The thought is more terrifying than anything else. That’s why in the end, it doesn’t matter if Zuko is his for a whole lifetime or only for a year or a month or a night. All that matters is that Zuko is _his_ for every minute Sokka is quick enough to steal from their fates. He’s going to keep fanning this spark between them even if it burns him alive.   
  
Back at the tent, Sokka fiddles with everything he can find. He’s pitched this tent a million times before and yet tonight each attempt feels wrong, and the little room he’s created by setting it up by the mouth of the cave feels suffocatingly small. He contemplates the best arrangement for the candles. The shape of a heart? Z, for Zuko? Does the Fire Nation have some weird, secret symbolism when it comes to candle placement? In the end, Sokka settles for placing them along the cave wall to maximize the amount of light in the tent, so he can have the best possible view of Zuko’s face as Sokka says what he needs to say. Sokka lights the candles with his own flint and steel, thinking that the little flames would be so much better coming from Zuko’s fingers, and then laughing at himself for being so smitten that he’s really started to believe that any one fire can be better than any other.   
  
(It can, and it is, and Zuko’s is the best of them all.)   
  
And then there are the roses. Sokka is starting to feel a little ridiculous for buying almost more roses than he could carry from the little flower stand. Because what’s he supposed to do with them now? It’s not like he’s just going to shove the whole prickly mess into Zuko’s arms the second he walks in - what’s Zuko to do with them then? Hold them in his lap? Toss them aside? No, Sokka won’t force Zuko to make that decision. He eventually ends up tucking the bouquet beneath the canvas of the tent, so the buds are still visible but not so eye-catching that Zuko realizes that Sokka would be willing to spend his life savings on pretty much anything that might make Zuko smile.   
  
But Sokka _is_ a romantic, so he tugs just one stem free of the rest to give to Zuko when he shows up. Zuko deserves to be given flowers. Sokka wants to be what Zuko deserves.   
  
And that’s the biggest crisis of all - _him_. What does Sokka do with himself?   
  
Hair up or down? Sokka goes with down - he remembers that time when Zuko confessed he liked it better that way, back before Sokka thought he had any hope of having his feelings returned. And what about his clothes? Obviously Sokka isn’t stupid enough to wait for Zuko in the nude, but should he stay fully dressed? That doesn’t seem right. Sokka wants to be ready for... _whatever_ this night might hold, and he doesn’t want to have to interrupt the natural flow of things by making Zuko wait while he fiddles with his belt or strips off his socks. There shouldn’t be any resistance between them - Sokka decided to stop resisting Zuko a long, _long_ time ago.   
  
Slowly, anxiously, Sokka kicks off his boots and shimmies out of his leggings and tugs off his gloves and undoes the wraps around his arms. Finally he’s left with just his tank top and his shorts, and he thinks that should do the trick. He’s comfortable, dressed enough to be deemed decent if this night doesn’t go the way he’s planned, but with scant clothing enough that he can be naked as quickly as he needs to be.   
  
He _knows_ he’s obsessing, the way he always does when he comes to a moment of truth. But the results of tonight are so incredibly _important_ that Sokka can’t let any tiny wrinkle - not the candles or the flowers or the clothes or _him_ \- screw this up. It needs to be perfect. _He_ needs to be perfect. And so he obsesses until he thinks everything might be as perfect as he’s humanly capable of making it.   
  
And the downside of _that_ is with all the obsessing out of the way, all there’s left to do is wait.   
  
Zuko will come. Sokka knows that. He’d promised he would, and Zuko wasn’t one to go around breaking promises. No, what sends Sokka’s fidgeting fingers running through his hair and his legs pacing around the cave is the prospect of something much worse: that Zuko will look at all the evidence, make the rational decision Sokka is incapable of making, and tell him _no_.   
  
And if that’s Zuko’s answer, Sokka’s not sure he’ll survive it.   
  
So he waits and waits and waits, not knowing if each flutter of the tent curtain is his destruction or his salvation or just a neutral gust of wind. The turning of the earth doesn’t slow down, but it doesn’t speed up either. It just spins and spins and spins. 

* * *

“Can we talk? Tonight? Alone?”   
  
Sokka’s words - murmured back behind an outcrop of rocks while their friends are distracted setting up camp - turn Zuko’s blood to ice. _This is it, then_ , he thinks. Sokka has finally come to his senses and realized that a tainted outcast like Zuko is unworthy of his special brand of boundless affection. And because he’s Sokka, now he’s trying to let Zuko down easy. Zuko stills, feels his body go as tense as if he’s about to be dealt a physical blow. Sokka doesn’t need to know that this will shatter him. Zuko can pay him that kindness, at least.   
  
But Zuko must not hide that knowledge very well, because Sokka’s face immediately contorts with horror.   
  
“Not like that! Nothing bad! Sorry, that was...bad.” Sokka reaches out instinctively to take Zuko’s hand, running his fingers over the knuckles jutting out of the back. “I just meant...my dad’s gone now. And I found this little cave, a little way off from the rest of camp. And I was thinking we could...talk.”   
  
One second under the warmth in Sokka’s eyes and Zuko’s insides can’t help but thaw. He should know better by now, he realizes. Sokka is honest and _good_ ; he isn’t going to break Zuko’s heart without a reason. And somehow, for Sokka, _Zuko himself_ isn’t reason enough. He’s made that much clear.   
  
“Yeah, okay,” Zuko whispers back. And maybe the moment of fear he’d inspired in Sokka was kind of worth it, because it means Zuko gets to watch his face light all the way up in a dazzling smile at the response Zuko’s given him.   
  
“Great!” Before Zuko can react, Sokka’s leaning in and pecking a quick kiss on his lips. Ever since the first one, all their kisses have been like this: short, quick, and secret. It’s tough, hiding _this_ from the rest of the group. Zuko knows it’s the right thing to do, because spirits know those kids don’t need more to worry about, but it’s still hard to hold himself back when every time he walks side-by-side with Sokka it feels like his arm might fall off if he doesn’t wrap it tight around Sokka’s waist and keep it there.   
  
This time, Sokka’s face lingers even after his lips have left Zuko’s, hovering eyes searching Zuko’s face for an answer to some unspoken question. Sokka’s mouth is so close that Zuko doesn’t see it when Sokka raises his hand to Zuko’s face, but he does feel Sokka’s fingers as they twist themselves in a loose lock of Zuko’s hair and then tuck it back behind his ear.   
  
“I was also thinking...maybe...we could do more of this?”   
  
Oh. _This_. Kissing.   
  
Zuko swallows and nods hard. “Yeah,” he repeats, brain too broken at the prospect to produce words with any sort of originality. “I want to. Do - do more of this.”   
  
“Good. Me too.” And Zuko barely has time to appreciate the lowness of Sokka’s voice before his lips are on Zuko’s again. This kiss is a little longer, a little wetter than they normally would have dared with their friends so closeby, and Zuko savors it, only letting Sokka finally part from him because of the promise of _more_ later tonight.   
  
“Wait ‘til everyone’s asleep and then come meet me in my tent. Okay?”  
  
“Okay.”   
  
And then Aang’s calling Zuko’s name, and Katara’s loudly complaining that she’s the only one who ever does any work around here, and the world isn’t just two boys hiding behind a rock even though Zuko thinks maybe that’s the only world he’s ever found worth living in. Sokka gives him another quick kiss on the cheek and then he’s gone, and Zuko is left dizzily remembering what breathing is supposed to feel like.   
  
The wait is long and painful, made even worse by the fact that Sokka basically disappears for the rest of the day. Zuko tries to focus on teaching Aang, but his firebending is distracted and erratic, and the lessons are much less fun without Sokka there to impress. As he waits, Zuko’s anxiety threatens to eat him alive. He _knows_ Sokka isn’t planning on hurting him - he said he wanted to _kiss_ , after all - but that doesn’t mean that isn’t what the night will hold for Zuko. What if he says the wrong thing and Sokka realizes that Zuko’s newfound morality is just a facade covering the irredeemably bad person at Zuko’s core? Or worse, what if extensive repetition reveals that Zuko is just really bad at kissing?   
  
But maybe what Zuko is most anxious about is the other thing Sokka said - that he wants to _talk_. Unless Zuko’s been reading Sokka wrong, and by this point he’s pretty sure he isn’t, he thinks he knows what Sokka wants to say. The two of them have been floating along together in a giddy dreamstate, thrilled about every piece of the other they can get their hands on, but they still haven’t really _talked_ about it. Zuko thinks maybe they’ve both been consciously putting that conversation off, both knowing that asking the other to affirmatively choose _this_ means condemning him to bear the burden of whatever way this war will inevitably find to rip their relationship to shreds. Asking anyone to choose that is crazy. Choosing it yourself is probably even crazier.   
  
It’s not like this would be the first time. Zuko has made a lot of crazy choices in his life. But with a few exceptions, almost all have been wrong. Zuko overthinks every choice until it makes him sick, trying to connect with that moral compass everyone else seems to have in some part of their anatomy that for Zuko is vacant. Nothing he does ever feels good or right, and every choice is distinguishable only on a spectrum of more to less stressful. He chose to chase his honor, and to return home, but he also chose to betray his country and join the ranks of his adversaries. Was that good? Was that right? Zuko thinks so, but he still doesn’t know for sure, only knows that each choice brought him agony in its making and anguish in its wake.   
  
But that’s the strangest thing, about _this_ choice in particular. Because unlike every other painful crossroads in Zuko’s life, Zuko isn’t sure if choosing _Sokka_ was ever a conscious decision at all.   
  
Sometimes it feels like this thing between them was laid out eons ago in the stars, a well-lit map that kept them on this steady course until they inevitably walked face-first into one another. The more time they spend together, the more Zuko realizes that there’s this heavy gravity that holds them together, and it’s begun to feel almost insurmountable in its constant pressure for Zuko to become another moon in Sokka’s orbit.   
  
Fate is confusing and mysterious and ultimately unknowable, but Zuko does know one thing. If this _isn’t_ predetermined? If life is actually random, and the choice is really Zuko’s alone?   
  
He’d still choose Sokka every time.   
  
That’s why, standing at the entrance of the tent, feet light on the soft grass so no one is alerted to his presence, Zuko only hesitates for a second. Just a second, to steel his nerves and stop his hands from shaking quite so much. There’s nothing in the tent to be afraid of. Zuko’s chosen already and he’s choosing again tonight and he’ll choose every single day that follows while he still can.   
  
He pushes open the tent flap.   
  
And nothing, really, could have prepared Zuko for what was inside. They’re roughing it on an island, for spirits’ sake, and pinching every penny to make sure they have enough money for their next meal. And yet somehow, Sokka’s managed to scrape together the most romantic scene Zuko’s ever seen in his life. The cave is dark, with soft light flickering from the dozen candles spread across the floor, illuminating the bouquet of roses hanging from the canvas that’s been pinned up on the cave wall. The rocky ground is covered by the spread of a plush, vast blanket.   
  
And in the middle of it all, more breathtaking than anything else, is _Sokka_. He’s sitting among the candles with his legs crossed, twirling a single rose between his fingers. His arms and legs are bare, and his hair’s hanging down around his face, and as always he’s stunningly handsome so effortlessly it’s as if his good looks have never even occurred to him. And Zuko still can’t believe that everything in this cave is all for _him_.   
  
Zuko must stare in shock for quite a while, because eventually Sokka’s nervous smile gives way to a nervous frown.   
  
“Fuck. It’s - it’s too much, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I went a little overboard getting all of the - I just wanted to make sure that you - ” Sokka’s words are coming fast as he glances rapidly around himself. “I don’t even know why I _got_ candles, obviously you could’ve made a fire if it got dark, I just - ”  
  
“ _Sokka._ ”   
  
Zuko cuts him off, the way Sokka needs him to sometimes. “It’s - it’s not too much. I mean…” Zuko trails off before he can say something stupid, like _it’s just too much for someone like me_. “It’s a lot, but it’s - it’s not too much. It’s... _amazing_. No one - ” He feels a lump in his throat, and he swallows down the rogue bit of emotion that’s built up in his windpipe. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” he finishes, falling to awestruck silence.   
  
Sokka looks slightly reassured at that. “Oh. Okay. So you - you like it?”   
  
The ridiculousness of the question makes Zuko smile. “I - yeah. I really, really like it.”   
  
Sokka lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank the spirits.” For the first time he seems to notice that Zuko is still hesitating by the entrance of the cave. “Do you - um. Come sit with me? You’re too far away.”  
  
Zuko doesn’t need to be asked twice. He crosses the cave at a crouch, because the ceiling is too low for him to stand up all the way, and sits cross-legged across from Sokka, so their knees are just touching. Zuko focuses on those two little points of warm contact, because if he doesn’t, the tender look in Sokka’s eyes is probably going to give him a heart attack.   
  
“Hi,” Sokka says softly.   
  
“Hi,” Zuko says back, and the exchange means nothing at all but Zuko finds that he can’t seem to stop himself from grinning so hard it pains him.   
  
Sokka looks at him a little longer, eyes scanning his face, and Zuko wonders if maybe they’re skipping ahead to the kissing part. But then Sokka shakes himself and clears his throat resolutely.   
  
“Like I was saying earlier, there are some - some things I wanted to talk to you about,” Sokka begins.   
  
“Okay,” Zuko says.   
  
“I - oh spirits, I forgot.” Sokka suddenly realizes the object he’s been fiddling with is actually a rose that’s been littering petals here and there on the blanket. Sheepishly, he holds the flower forward toward Zuko. “I got you this. All of these, actually.” He gestures up to the massive bouquet. “But - here. For you.”   
  
Zuko takes it from him, overwhelmed to silence again. A rose - that means something, doesn’t it?   
  
Sokka is filling the quiet with words once more. “I know I’m not the expert but I _know_ you’re supposed to give flowers to the person you like, and I just thought roses seemed the most romantic, and you always look so good in red so it seemed like - and I just - ” He swallows. “I wanted to give you flowers. I wanted to so I did. I think you...you should have flowers.”   
  
Zuko’s heart suddenly feels very, very close to bursting.   
  
“Thank you, Sokka,” he whispers, staring down at the flower, wondering if the spirits would be willing to share their immorality with this rose alone.   
  
“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m messing this up,” Sokka says, and Zuko’s eyes flick back up to his.   
  
“You’re not,” he swears. “It’s perfect. Okay? You don’t need to worry.”  
  
Sokka stares at him and starts nodding slowly, like he’s really taking Zuko’s words to heart. Zuko hopes that’s the case, because it’s true: Sokka never needs to worry. Not about Zuko.   
  
“Okay,” Sokka agrees eventually.   
  
“Good. So. You…” Zuko feels anxious bringing it up, but there’s no choice now, right? They have to do it. They have to _talk_. “You said there was something you...wanted to talk about?”   
  
“Right. Yes.” Sokka takes a deep breath and raises his hands. Lowers them, then raises them again. “Here,” he murmurs, taking the rose gently from Zuko’s hands and setting it aside. Then he threads his fingers through Zuko’s and pulls both of Zuko’s hands into his lap. They’re so close that the motion is easy, but Zuko leans in anyway, following the tug of Sokka’s hands so his face is just a little bit closer.   
  
“Is this okay?” Sokka asks, and Zuko nods.   
  
“Okay,” Sokka says. And then, “Remember this morning?”  
  
Zuko feels his head tilt curiously to the side. Of course he _remembers_ this morning, when his sister had emerged from the clouds to kill him. Zuko doesn’t think he’ll soon forget the sensation of free-falling through the air, only to have gravity interrupted by Sokka’s hand clasped around his wrist, where it had stayed for hours after that, the rest of the gang be damned. A part of Zuko thinks there’s probably a good metaphor wrapped up in all that, but his nerves are too frayed to uncover it. Instead, he settles for nodding. “I remember.”   
  
“Yeah. That was...that was really scary,” Sokka admits. “And I’ve _trained_ for this. Kind of. I mean, my whole life I’ve known that I would be fighting the Fire Nation someday, one way or another. That’s just - that’s my role in all this, you know? Protect my tribe, protect Katara…”   
  
He trails off, looking away, and Zuko gives his hands an encouraging squeeze. Sokka’s serious eyes return to Zuko’s.  
  
“So, yeah. After facing off with them so many times you’d think it wouldn’t be scary anymore, but this morning - It was _worse_ , somehow. I was so freaked out and I don’t even know _why_. There was just this horrible feeling like - like I just have so much more to lose than I ever did before, and - I don’t know. I froze. I didn’t do any of the things I was supposed to. I wasn’t looking out for the kids, or for my dad, or for Katara, I was just...frozen.”  
  
Sokka’s brow furrows as he goes on. “But - Zuko. _Zuko_. _You_ didn’t freeze. You were right there. You saved Katara’s _life_. My little sister could be...but she isn’t, because of _you_.” Each _you_ is punctuated by another tight squeeze of Zuko’s hands. “You’re so _brave_ , Zuko. So much braver than me. And you’re so _good_ , too. I don’t know if I would risk my life like that for someone who doesn’t even - but you did that. Because you’re _you_. You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met.”   
  
Zuko barely remembers the moment Sokka is talking about, when the collapse of the temple threatened to crush Katara beneath the rubble. Everything had happened too quickly to absorb; Zuko’s body had moved before he was even aware of the danger. He wants to tell Sokka this, that he doesn’t deserve any of the praise he’s getting for merely following his muscles where they’d decided to take him, but Sokka’s still talking.   
  
“I watched you do _that_ , and I just...I realized some stuff,” Sokka says vaguely. His face is going from reverent to distressed, and Zuko has to resist the urge to reach up and smooth out the tension creating creases at the bridge of his nose. “But then the world was falling apart around us, and you were going to fight _Azula_ , and then the next time I saw you, you were _falling_ \- ”  
  
Sokka’s voice cracks on the word. Zuko doesn’t have his hands, so he tilts his forehead to press against Sokka’s. “Hey, hey, I’m okay,” Zuko reminds him, hoping the contact will help Sokka remember that fact. “You caught me, remember?”  
  
Sokka draws in a shuddering breath, staring down at their intertwined fingers, and Zuko knows he’s playing back the same terrifying moment in his mind.   
  
“You’re okay,” Sokka repeats. “I know you’re okay. We got really, _really_ lucky this time, and you’re okay. But…” He pulls away, looking up at Zuko again, and the flickering candlelight reflects in the tears forming in his eyes. “You could have _died_.”  
  
Those words hang in the air for a moment before Sokka can find it in himself to go on. “You could have died, Zuko. You could just be... _gone_. And I wouldn’t be able to - and you wouldn’t even _know_ \- ”   
  
Sokka’s hands are clutching so tight to his that it hurts.  
  
“This morning was...horrible. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. But the thing is, we live dangerous lives. You’re alive right now, and thank every goddamn spirit in existence for that,” Sokka says, letting out a borderline hysterical laugh. “But we don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. We just don’t. It could be you. Or it could be me. And then all of this, ” - _another squeeze_ \- “would just be over. And Zuko, I don’t think I could live with myself, here or in the afterlife, if that happened and you didn’t know how I feel about you.”   
  
Zuko blinks, trying to piece together what Sokka is telling him. He already knows how Sokka feels, or at least he thinks he does. Has something changed?   
  
“So I’m - I’m going to tell you. I know I’m probably rushing things, but I just - I _need_ you to hear this, okay?” Sokka asks. “I need you to hear this before anything else happens to us.”   
  
“Okay,” Zuko agrees, a little startled by how agitated Sokka seems.   
  
“Okay.” Sokka straightens, steadying himself. He takes in one more deep breath, his eyes never leaving Zuko’s.   
  
“Zuko. I don’t just _like_ you. I _love_ you. I’m in love with you, and I need you to know that. And I know it’s so soon, and I know it’s probably too much, and you don’t have to say it back, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I _love_ you, I love you _so much_ \- ”  
  
“I love you, too.”   
  
The answer comes so automatically that Zuko doesn’t realize at first that it’s come from him. He’s never thought of it that way before, not in those words, but as soon as they’re said Zuko realizes how true they are. And while they’re _surprising_ , they’re definitely not _new._ Loving Sokka is something that feels ancient, and saying it out loud feels like excavating a precious artifact that’s been buried deep within Zuko for centuries. It’s always been there, and unearthing it after all this time feels so, _so_ good.  
  
Sokka looks absolutely stricken, his mouth falling open as he is, for once, stunned totally to silence. He gapes for a second before finding his tongue. “You - you do? You love me?”   
  
Zuko’s smiling, he realizes. He’s smiling so hard he thinks he might start to cry. “Of course I love you,” he says, and _yes_ , there’s that feeling again, like he’s shining light in a place that hasn’t seen sunshine in years. He squeezes Sokka’s hands, _tight_. “ _I love you,_ Sokka. I do.”   
  
The shock in Sokka’s eyes is quickly giving way to something much more like relief, paired with a wild giddiness. “You love me. You _love me_.”   
  
“ _Yes._ I love you.”  
  
“Tui and La, Zuko,” Sokka says, and suddenly his hands are on Zuko’s cheeks and he’s pulling him on for a sloppy, ecstatic kiss that Zuko returns with uncoordinated enthusiasm. It feels different and _good_ being kissed by someone who loves you, and Zuko kind of wants to let himself float away just like this for the rest of the night, but too soon Sokka pulls away and presses his forehead against Zuko’s. He’s breathing hard, the same air that filled Zuko’s lungs moments ago, and the look he’s giving Zuko…  
  
The _love_ in those eyes rattles him right to his core.   
  
“Sorry,” Sokka says between breaths. “It’s just, there’s, there’s something else I wanted to ask you, too.” And Zuko wants to _scream_ at him that there isn’t anything Sokka could ask that he wouldn’t say _yes_ to but he doesn’t. He wants to hear this, because he wants to keep it in his memory for all of eternity.   
  
“Ask, then,” Zuko nudges him. The skin on his face where Sokka is holding him burns, and Zuko doesn’t know if the heat is coming from Sokka or from himself.   
  
“Okay.” Zuko is so close that he feels the flutter of Sokka’s eyelashes as he blinks and exhales and pulls a few inches away, still cradling Zuko’s jaw in his hands. “I don’t really - I don’t know the right way to ask this. And I know…” Sokka lets out a frustrated sigh. “I _know_ it’s a lot to ask of someone. Of - of you. With everything happening in the world right now. And I know it’s probably...wrong, of me to ask. But, um…”  
  
Sokka bites his lip. One of his thumbs strokes Zuko’s unscarred cheekbone, and Zuko leans into the contact.   
  
“I want to...commit to you,” Sokka says finally. And then, quickly after that, “I mean, I am committed to you. I already am, even after so little time. I _love_ you. And there’s - there’s nobody else, obviously. And I don’t want there to be. You’re the only one I want, and - and I want to make that official. And, um…” Zuko feels Sokka’s hands tighten around his face. “I think I would really like it if you...wanted to commit to me, too.”   
  
Zuko doesn’t speak, unsure if the question has been asked already, and after a moment Sokka goes on talking. “I don’t really know how people usually do this, to be honest. But, um, back home, necklaces...” And then Sokka looks away, and Zuko’s mind goes to the necklace it knows best, the one that lives around Katara’s neck. “Necklaces...mean something. So…”  
  
Zuko’s face is released, and Sokka’s hands reach back around his own neck, to undo the clasp of the white, whalebone choker that Zuko has never seen him without. Suddenly Sokka’s neck is very, very bare, and he’s holding the necklace in his lap, staring right into Zuko’s eyes.   
  
“I want you to have my necklace. And I want you to be my...my boyfriend. I mean, I want you to be my - well. My boyfriend. For now.” Sokka slowly extends his arm, holding the necklace out for Zuko. “So, here. If you’ll have it. And - and me.”   
  
Zuko stares at it for a second before reaching out a shaking hand and taking it from Sokka. The necklace is _heavier_ than he expected, and he feels suddenly surprised that Sokka wears the thing as constantly as he does. But he’s even more surprised that it’s in _his_ hands. Sokka’s necklace and his question and its answer, Zuko’s holding them all.   
  
And Sokka is right. It is a lot to ask of someone. Because if Zuko agrees to open up this new compartment of his heart and stow Sokka away there, then he succumbs to yet another architectural infirmity that is certain to send him toppling the moment Sokka is out of his life again. And that thought terrifies Zuko, because he _knows_ full well that ultimately, choosing someone doesn’t make a single bit of difference to the world. The moment when Sokka leaves him could be tomorrow or ten years from now, but _loving_ Sokka won’t do anything to stop the spinning earth from sending them careening toward it. All it will do is multiply the pain Zuko feels when that day finally comes.   
  
Sokka’s blue eyes are staring at him.   
  
It is a lot to ask. It’s also not, though. Because this choice has already been made. Maybe it was two seconds ago, or maybe it was two billion years back, when the spirits were first sketching the blueprints of the universe. They’d known it then, like Zuko knows it now: Zuko would always choose Sokka. That was always part of the plan.   
  
It’s time to let Sokka in on that secret.   
  
“Sokka…” Zuko begins, and then has to stop because he thinks he might cry if he doesn’t. His fingers squeeze tight around the necklace, feeling how weighty and real it is in his hand. “Sokka,” he tries again, and this time his voice only barely shakes.   
  
“Yeah?” Sokka breathes.  
  
“I - yes. Of _course_ I want that. I want to be your - your boyfriend. And - and anything else you want me to be,” he adds quickly, because this _yes_ is really about as all-inclusive as it gets. “I want to wear your necklace, and be committed to you, and I - I want that. I want all of that. Everything you want from me, you...you can have,” Zuko finishes, and it’s _true_. Everything.   
  
Sokka is staring at him with such awestruck endearment that Zuko has to clamp his mouth shut before he says something even more ridiculous. Instead he holds the necklace silently out to Sokka, who glances downward, confused for just a moment before he understands. He takes the necklace from Zuko and then reaches up, letting his hands come together gingerly around the back of Zuko’s neck. Zuko holds up his hair as Sokka’s shaking hands fumble with the clasp once, twice, three times, struggling to fasten it shut. Each tiny brush of his fingertips against Zuko’s skin sends a shock straight down his spine.   
  
Finally Sokka seems to succeed, because he pulls his hands just barely away, letting them rest lightly on the curves where Zuko’s neck meets his shoulders. The necklace stays, so heavy and cold and _present_ that Zuko knows there’s no chance he’ll ever forget it’s there. It’s like having a piece of Sokka, a piece of his _love_ , on display for the world to see, which is just how Zuko wants it.   
  
“Does it look good?” Zuko can’t help but ask as he watches Sokka, whose eyes are transfixed on his neck.   
  
“It looks incredible,” Sokka tells him. His gaze stays there for a few moments longer before it shifts upward, meeting Zuko’s again. “So, you’re...you’re my boyfriend.”   
  
“And you’re _my_ boyfriend.”   
  
Sokka lets out a high, relieved laugh, a single note that rings happy and anxious all at once. In the sound and in the careful press of Sokka’s hands against his pulse, Zuko senses a fresh atmosphere of delicacy in the air around them. After all, finally allowing a relationship to _exist_ means it’s something that can be destroyed, now, too. But while that should scare Zuko, he finds that all it does is fill him with exhilaration to be the person Sokka’s fingers are holding like he’s precious. This bubble might be fragile but it’s _theirs_ and theirs alone.   
  
Before they’d kissed fast and hard, but the cave around them feels different now, warm and syrupy, like another dimension where time has no meaning at all. Sokka’s staring at him, eyes brimming with emotion ( _love love love_ ) and trailing over every inch of Zuko’s face, finally landing on Zuko’s lips.   
  
Zuko feels himself start to smile again, and Sokka’s eyes move slowly, slowly, back up to meet his.   
  
“Can I…?” Sokka asks, because it feels necessary now, because every breath feels strong enough to send this new relationship quaking. Zuko nods hard.   
  
Sokka follows his own hands, leaning forward until their faces are almost touching again. Sokka’s eyes flick back and forth between Zuko’s for another second before falling shut, his brow furrowing as if in intense concentration. He holds there for a few moments longer, breathing in and out, and Zuko watches as Sokka’s shoulders shudder ever so slightly with one last exhale, and then Sokka is kissing him.   
  
Zuko’s eyes fall shut at the forceful gentleness behind Sokka’s lips. Sokka kisses him cautiously, carefully, and Zuko wonders if Sokka has the same feeling that he does right now, that there is a sense of _first_ -ness behind this kiss that hasn’t been there since that very first time. Zuko feels at once paralyzingly anxious and utterly safe, because Sokka is kissing him but also _Sokka is kissing him_. Sokka loves him and Sokka is his boyfriend and Sokka is kissing him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do on this earth and it’s everything Zuko has ever wanted and so, so much more.   
  
Zuko is statue-still for the first few moments as Sokka’s lips part around his, but he _aches_ to touch. He never knows what to do with his hands; he’s not as much a natural at this as Sokka appears to be, and he’s embarrassingly unpracticed, always afraid his body will find some way to scare Sokka off. Eventually he settles for reaching up and curling his hands around Sokka’s wrists where they rest just above Zuko’s collarbone. Sokka lets out a soft little moan against Zuko’s mouth at the sensation, and Zuko is surprised by the way the vocalization is _felt_ even more than it’s heard, a tiny little rumble between their already shivering faces. The sound makes Zuko feel braver, and he leans deeper into the kiss, letting his mouth open ever so slightly more, squeezing his hands more tightly around Sokka’s arms.   
  
His eagerness sets something off in Sokka, because he lets out another sound and then pulls away.   
  
“Do you - ” he begins between heavy breaths. There’s a nervous electricity in his eyes as he licks his lips. “Would you want to...lay down?”   
  
Zuko feels his eyes go wide. They’ve never laid down together before, or done anything else that such an invitation might entail. Zuko’s never done anything like that with anyone. The idea of doing any of that for the first time is scary, but fear is eclipsed by eagerness to do any and all of it with _Sokka_.   
  
“Okay,” Zuko says quietly, and realizes his voice doesn’t match the enthusiasm he’s feeling in his chest. “I - yes, I want to do that. I really want to. If - if you want to.”   
  
“Okay,” Sokka says, and Zuko is a little relieved that Sokka sounds just as nervous as he feels. Sokka’s hands slide away from his neck, over his shoulders and down his arms. He gives them a light squeeze. “Lay back, then?”   
  
Heart thumping, Zuko uncrosses his legs and begins to lean backwards onto the soft blanket beneath them. Sokka is close behind, scooting forward into the V of Zuko’s open legs and then crawling over him, planting a strong arm on either side of Zuko’s body. Zuko can feel the way Sokka is holding himself back, hips and chest and face hovering away from Zuko, so their only contact is the thin fabric of Sokka’s shirt where it hangs between them. It’s almost overwhelming, the wonderstruck look on Sokka’s face and the heat of his body all around Zuko, but it’s a feeling Zuko wants to get lost in.   
  
Sokka’s eyes widen as he looks down. “Spirits,” he whispers, and Zuko thinks maybe Sokka’s dark cheeks are darkening even more.   
  
“What?” Zuko asks, feeling braver with each moment Sokka doesn’t pull away.   
  
“You just - you look incredible like this,” Sokka tells him. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”   
  
Zuko hears himself let out a soft sound. Sokka is one to talk - he looks absolutely _gorgeous_ , with his pupils darkened in anticipation and his muscles tense from holding himself upright and his hair hanging loose around his face. Boldly, Zuko let’s one hand trail softly up the hard line of Sokka’s arm, over his shoulder, coming to rest on the back of his head, just barely touching Sokka’s hair. He hopes it isn’t too much.   
  
Sokka’s mouth falls open and he inhales softly, heading jerking back involuntarily into Zuko’s hand. “That feels good,” he says. “You can - you can do more than that. It’s okay.”  
  
Zuko swallows and lets his hands do what they want to do, threading his fingers through the softness of Sokka’s hair and stroking the grain of his buzzed undercut with his pinkies. Sokka’s eyebrows are knitted together in an expression that feels so tender it almost physically hurts, and Zuko wants to _kiss_ him. Before he can help himself, he’s tugging Sokka down by the neck to pull him even closer than he already is. Zuko is scared for a moment that he’s gone too far, but Sokka comes willingly, bending his arms to rest on his elbows. His hands move to Zuko’s cheeks, and the lightness of the touch makes Zuko shiver.   
  
“Is it okay if I - ”  
  
“Yes,” Zuko cuts him off. “ _Please_ , Sokka.”   
  
Sokka makes that face again, like somehow he’s got it twisted and he thinks _he’s_ the luckiest man on earth for getting to be with Zuko and not the other way around. His head tips forward slowly, slowly, almost like he’s nervous that Zuko will change his mind, before finally closing his eyes and _kissing_ him.   
  
The kiss isn’t urgent, but there’s a sense of _promise_ behind it that makes Zuko’s whole body feel warm and tingly. The movement of their lips is slow and steady, and that’s _fine_ , because Zuko thinks this might be one of those cases where the journey is as good as the destination and he wants to enjoy this ride as long as possible.   
  
Before long, Sokka’s body is pressed totally against his, and Zuko’s hands are roaming all over it as he tries to memorize the way it feels to be cell-to-cell with someone who loves you. The silence in the cave is punctured by whispered questions and gasps for air and _yes yes yes_ as the kiss grows deeper, each boy growing braver as they tumble further into the night. Zuko touches Sokka the way he thinks you’re supposed to touch your boyfriend, the way _he_ would want to be touched, and it’s clumsy and awkward but Sokka’s sighs in his ear tell him that he’s doing something right. And when it’s over and Sokka’s hands are on _him_ , Zuko thinks he’ll probably never feel anything better for the rest of his life. It’s too much and not enough and just right, all at the same time.   
  
It goes on forever and yet it’s over all too soon, their needy affection giving way to gooey exhaustion. Sokka slides off of him to lay down next to Zuko, and Zuko wonders for a moment if it’s time for him to sneak back to his own tent, until he feels Sokka’s fingers in his hair.   
  
“Don’t think for a _second_ that I’m letting you leave,” Sokka tells him, and Zuko feels himself smile with relief. They’re both sweaty, but he doesn’t mind; he scoots over to rest his head on Sokka’s shoulder and throw an arm around his waist. Sleeping alongside each other - that will be another first.   
  
Sokka looks incredible like this, with his skin glowing in the flickering candlelight and his expression so soft that Zuko feels totally disarmed. Zuko can’t help but reach up and stroke his cheek.   
  
“I love you,” they say at the same time, and then share a hushed giggle on the soft blanket. Zuko flicks his wrist, putting out every candle in the cave but one, so he can watch the happy drowsiness settle over Sokka’s face as he presses kiss after kiss on Zuko’s forehead until he eventually falls asleep. They pass the night that way, alone together in a little cave on a tiny island, so at peace that it feels like maybe there was never a war at all. 

* * *

When Sokka awakens, it’s with Zuko’s limbs tangled up in his, a hot mess of warmth and need, like two castaways clinging to a life raft. Someone outside is yelling that it’s time to pack up camp, and soon Zuko is stirring too, and his skin is unsticking from where it pressed against Sokka for the night, and Sokka realizes that their time together is ending far sooner than he wants to let it.   
  
And that’s just the thing about the world, isn’t it? It keeps turning, even when you beg it to stop.   
  
Time passes. This minute will soon be gone, and the next, and the next, until this war ends with Zuko leading from the throne or laying in a casket, probably equally out of Sokka’s reach no matter where he lands.   
  
But Sokka doesn’t want to think about that. For now he has this - _this_ minute, where Zuko’s lips are ghosting against Sokka’s neck and his fingers are brushing the skin under Sokka’s shirt and the slow beat of his heart is keeping perfect time with Sokka’s. Even if this is all Sokka ever has of him, it will always be too much and never enough and _just right just right just right_ \- 

**Author's Note:**

> [IF YOU HAVEN'T CLICKED ON THIS BEAUTIFUL FANART YET, CLICK ON IT NOW.](https://ponury-grajek.tumblr.com/post/630430789494030336/i-was-uumm-redrawing-that-screenshot-of-sokka-in)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Come talk to me on tumblr: [main blog](https://crosspin.tumblr.com/) | [atla blog](https://engagedzukka.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [take my hand, wreck my plans](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056011) by [zukkababey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zukkababey/pseuds/zukkababey)




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